


After the rain has passed, the sun will smile again

by orphan_account



Series: Nowadays you’re such a blur [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Established Relationship, Falling Out of Love, I need to stop projecting on fics, M/M, and start talking to people, ish??????, kind of?, maybe in my next life ayyyeee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 20:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18395735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Seonghwa doesn’t love him anymore.





	After the rain has passed, the sun will smile again

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Maselang Bahaghari by Eraserheads because yes. It was terribly translated too I’m sorry lmao. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fic.
> 
> Anyway congrats to me for ditching lapslock ayyee

Seonghwa doesn’t love him anymore. No more pretenses, no more introductory speeches, just straight to the point — Seonghwa doesn’t love him anymore. After nearly five years of dating, Seonghwa has grown tired. He has long since given up, stopped trying, and along the way, Hongjoong has been sitting back with his feet up on the dashboard of Seonghwa’s black, second-hand Toyota Corolla, letting it all happen.

 

It was never a surprising thing.

 

“Put your feet off my dashboard. I just cleaned that this morning.” Seonghwa orders, sighing, his fingers tapping on the leather-clad steering wheel. He eyes the stoplight, watching the red numbers go down from a hefty sixty. “And your legs are blocking the side mirrors.”

 

Hongjoong huffs a sigh of his own, but obeys nevertheless. He toes off his boots and crosses his legs on the seat. “Are we getting takeout?”

 

“We’ll be home in ten minutes.” Seonghwa turns his head at the other, eyes squinting, pointedly looking at Hongjoong’s feet.

 

“I took them off,” Hongjoong says, uncrossing his legs to wiggle his socked feet. He rolls his eyes. “I’m fucking hungry.”

 

“Ten minutes,” Seonghwa repeats. He turns back to stare at the stoplight. “And don’t curse at me.”

 

One turns to one hundred and twenty, red to green. The car moves.

 

They don’t eat at home. As soon as the car pulls over, Hongjoong removes his seatbelt and hops out of the car. He unlocks their front door, leaving it open for Seonghwa as he enters. Already midway through the living room, he hears Seonghwa let out an exasperated sigh. He ignores it and goes straight to their shared bedroom. Seonghwa follows.

 

“Please put your shoes away when you enter the house,” Seonghwa mumbles, eyes closed as he pads inside, one hand balled as he rubs at his eye. He has been telling Hongjoong that since they moved in together.

 

“I was gonna wear them again tomorrow,” Hongjoong replies. “Now I have to take them out again.”

 

“It takes only a few seconds to be tidy,” Seonghwa calls from the bathroom. The door shuts behind him.

 

Ah, their first day in this house together…

 

They spent months looking for a nice house. In all honesty, Hongjoong really wasn’t much help.  He just looked at how each house looked like, how big or small the rooms were. Seonghwa was the meticulous one between the two of them, taking great care in looking at every nook and cranny of the houses they visit. When they came across this one, Hongjoong immediately okayed, because it was spacious and beautiful, while Seonghwa looked around the ceilings and the walls, before he smiles widely at Hongjoong, enveloping him in a big hug.

 

“This. This is it,” Seonghwa says, and he turns back to view the house in all its glory. “It’s perfect.”

 

Moving in was tiring, their boxed stuff being put in a corner in what would end up as their living room, while the more basic furniture were pushed and carried to where they were planned to be placed. But when everything has finally come together, it was the most satisfying thing.

 

It used to spark joy in them, walking down the halls of their house,  _ their _ house, just looking at everything, taking everything in. Seonghwa used to redecorate a lot during their first year, buying new things and moving the existing stuff around to fit whatever mood he was going for. It was kind of endearing, the way he seems to always find something missing despite their already-full rooms, the way he adds tiny details that makes the house look even livelier than before, the way he doesn’t even need to buy decor because the house would look completely different with the new arrangements.

 

And then it starts becoming frustrating for him. Hongjoong likes to help, he really does, so when Seonghwa finds himself in a dead end, flushed out of creativity, Hongjoong tries to suggest things. But then Seonghwa starts to snap at him.

 

Seonghwa rubs a hand down his face. “I don’t need your help, okay? Let me figure this out.”

 

“Can’t you just, put everything back where they were?”

 

“Sorry?” Seonghwa sounds so offended that Hongjoong couldn’t find it in him to repeat what he said. So he just leaves.

 

Then Seonghwa stops redecorating completely. Hongjoong doesn’t know what happened, but it has been a year since their furniture was last touched. He doesn’t ask about it though.

 

When he walks down to the living room, he feels nothing. It was such a strange thing, seeing the same view every time he enters the house, but it all somehow lacks a spark of familiarity. Somehow, it feels more unknown,  _ alien.  _ Their furniture, their picture frames on the wall, all catching dust, leaving prints on their respective places. And yet,  _ somehow, _ they don’t feel like they belong there.

 

Seonghwa used to clean a lot too. He likes to keep their house tidy, but lately, he has been acting quite lazy. He was, in no way, a slob, not even the slightest bit messy. But if you knew Seonghwa well, you’d know there was a sudden shift in his behavior. Everything used to be so spotless. He used to be so religious in cleaning the house, but his daily cleaning starts to have gaps between them — one day apart turns to two, days turn to one whole week. Dishes pile at their sink, washed only come morning, or when Hongjoong bothers to push up his sleeves to his elbows and wash them himself. He starts to do their laundry now, too, after Seonghwa neglects doing them in favor of watching television alone.

 

Nowadays, all Seonghwa seems to be interested in doing was nag or become disappointed, sometimes both at the same time, and always at Hongjoong.

 

“Didn’t you say you were hungry?” Seonghwa asks, hair damp, body completely bare save for the towel around his waist. He rummages through their shared closet.

 

“Lost my appetite,” Hongjoong answers, monotonous. He lies down on their bed, turning to his side, his back to Seonghwa.

 

A click of the tongue. “Can’t you at least change your clothes?” Ah, Seonghwa and his dislike of the germs from the outside world.

 

Hongjoong was tired. Looking back on it, most of his energy has always been kind of linked with Seonghwa’s. Whatever Seonghwa was feeling, he feels it too, sometimes in the same intensity, sometimes worse. Now, Seonghwa was beyond tired. He was exhausted, and Hongjoong could feel it seep into his bones. It forces his eyelids closed, his breathing slowly evening out, his heart digging a hole into his chest.

 

“Change your clothes,” Seonghwa repeats, voice stern. He shakes him by the shoulder, relentless,  _ annoying, _ until Hongjoong angrily swats his hand away and gets up.

 

“Fucking hell,” Hongjoong mutters. He presses his fingers against his eyelids, trying to shake off his drowsiness. He stumbles a little when he gets on his feet.

 

Back then, way back then, Seonghwa had held him in his arms, giving Hongjoong  _ that look —  _ the one where his eyes were almost half-lidded, his lips parted just the slightest, tongue sweeping across his lower lip — and leaned in, giving Hongjoong a chaste kiss. When they parted, Seonghwa had said, breath against the other’s lips, “I want to marry you.”

 

Hongjoong hasn’t gone out with many people. And none of the people he went out with ever liked him that much, ever truly loved him. When Seonghwa had said that, Hongjoong felt like maybe, this was it. There would be no other. He got high from it, being wanted like that, being loved so much that Seonghwa wants to spend his life with him. A promise;  _ forever. _

 

He doesn’t feel stupid now, though, watching their relationship slowly but steadily crumble. He had believed Seonghwa, because he knows Seonghwa had been so sure of it back then, because he himself believed it too. They just never thought things would come to this.

 

Distantly, though, Hongjoong knows all good things come to an end. He knows that this will all end eventually, no matter how good of a run it was. He had told Seonghwa this, and every time, Seonghwa would shut him up with a kiss and offer reassurance that he doesn’t need nor want. All this time, Hongjoong knew this was going to happen. He had been expecting it, and yet…

 

It still hurts.

 

It hurts, how empty his heart was. Seonghwa doesn’t love him, and he doesn’t love Seonghwa.

 

“Turn the lights off when you’re done,” Seonghwa says, voice muffled. Hongjoong looks at him over his shoulder, seeing the other lying on his stomach.

 

He wants to ask, what were they?

 

He should ask.

 

“Hyung?”

 

But he doesn’t have the courage to.

 

“Nevermind.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Seonghwa says, now on his back, face illuminated by the lights on his phone. “It’s annoying.” There was a dim glint on his ring finger.

 

He still has his ring on. It was a promise ring — a thin silver ring with a small diamond. They bought it together some time ago, for their fourth anniversary. They hadn’t planned on it. It was a spontaneous purchase: they had a fancy, candlelit dinner at a restaurant, and when they decided to take a stroll before going home, they passed by a jewelry shop.

 

“Hyung,” Hongjoong said, when they had found themselves huddled by the glass window, staring at the display of rings. “What are we doing?”

 

Seonghwa kept staring at the display, palm against the glass. “Which one do you like?”

 

“Are we…?”

 

He looked up. “I want to marry you.”

 

Hongjoong remembers the happiness he felt, wearing the ring for the first time. Seonghwa had taken his hand, flashing him a smile, eyes wrinkled, and slipped the ring on his finger. He couldn’t even see properly; his eyes were blurred with tears, but his face hurt with how big his own smile was.

 

And then he took Seonghwa’s hand next. He nearly dropped the ring, his own hands shaking, and he struggled a lot with just putting it on.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Seonghwa had laughed. He took the ring and wore it himself. When Hongjoong looked up, eyes rubbed red, he saw the tear stains on Seonghwa’s cheeks.

 

“I love you,” he said. “Happy anniversary.”

 

It doesn’t offer any comfort, the knowledge that Seonghwa still wears the ring. He also still does, but at this point, it feels like he only keeps it on out of politeness, maybe guilt, and to keep the empty feeling away when he removes it. He has forgotten what it feels like not to wear a ring on that finger. He could replace it, he has dozens of other rings anyway, but… he doesn’t want to. It doesn’t feel right.

 

Despite everything, he still doesn’t want to let go.

 

Hongjoong pulls his shirt off, carelessly tossing it at the hamper. He throws their closet door open, eyes scanning the neatly folded clothes and the hung ones. They were all arranged according to color. Seonghwa always made sure of that, and it feels kind of nice that he never stopped doing that. It brings a weak spark of hope in Hongjoong’s chest, knowing that there was still a part of Seonghwa that hasn’t changed. There was still something he could hold onto.  _ Familiarity  _ that doesn’t hurt.

 

Why was he still holding on when he doesn’t feel anything anymore?

 

Without much thought, he goes through Seonghwa’s clothes and takes out one of the sweaters there. The softest one, a knitted mock neck sweater in cream — his favorite. He pulls it on, the tight squeeze on his head messing up his hair, but he pays it no mind. He strips off his jeans next, folding the pant sleeves together, and then half, and half again. He sets it over his other jeans, and then takes the pajama pants on top of the pile.

 

“Turn off the lights,” Seonghwa mumbles from the bed, back turned from Hongjoong.

 

Sometimes, Hongjoong wishes something terrible happened between them. He wishes Seonghwa was an asshole. He wishes Seonghwa would just cheat on him or something, just to get it over with. They have been stuck in this unfeeling limbo for so long. If Seonghwa doesn’t want to leave, couldn’t he just do something stupid instead? Make Hongjoong hate him, so he could kick him out? But Seonghwa was too nice to do anything damaging, and Hongjoong doesn’t think he could ever hate him even if he did.

 

Seonghwa was...perfect. He was neat and tidy, caring, smart,  _ beautiful, _ loving. Sure, he nags a lot, he gets pissed off at Hongjoong’s bad habits, but he was only that way because he cares for Hongjoong’s well-being. And Hongjoong appreciates him for that, appreciates everything he does, little or big.

 

And maybe, after being the one who takes care of Hongjoong, he has gotten tired. Hongjoong thinks about that a lot. Maybe he hasn’t taken care of Seonghwa enough. Maybe he failed to give back the same love he receives.

 

Maybe it was his fault.

 

“Hyung,” he calls, softly. He lies down on his side, staring at Seonghwa’s broad back. He wants to ask, what happened to us? But he doesn’t even feel concerned. He doesn’t feel anything. His heart was empty and his eyes were dry.

 

All he wants to know, was how long Seonghwa was willing to stay. He doesn’t even care if the other leaves. He just wants to know. He was comfortable like this, in their silence, in their lack of fights, their lack of intimacy, their lack of love. He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t love Seonghwa anymore.

 

Seonghwa doesn’t turn.

 

Wordlessly, Hongjoong inches closer to the other, and slips his arm across Seonghwa’s waist. He doesn’t get pushed away, or pulled closer. Seonghwa closes his hand around Hongjoong’s, thumb drawing circles on his skin.

 

Hongjoong stares at their hands, at the diamonds on their fingers. He shuts his eyes and nuzzles his face against Seonghwa’s back. He whispers, “I love you.”

 

“Do you mean it?” Seonghwa asks. His thumb stops its motion, hand squeezing Hongjoong’s.

 

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong answers honestly. His throat feels like it was closing up.

 

“Do you want to break up?”

 

“I don’t know.” He really doesn’t. “I love you.”

 

A pause. Seonghwa’s hand relaxes. “I love you too. Do you mean it, though?”  _ How about you? _

 

“I don’t want you to leave, so… so maybe I do,” Hongjoong swallows, painfully. Seonghwa’s shirt was wet.

 

“I don’t want to leave either. But you - “ Seonghwa pauses. He breathes out a sigh. “I’m so tired. And you’re so distant.”

 

They used to go on a lot of dates. And then after some time, they both started to get swamped with work. Life happened. They barely see each other during the day, and the evenings were spent catching up on sleep, or cramming.

 

Maybe it was Hongjoong who should have cheated. Make Seonghwa hate him, make Seonghwa throw him out, leave him. But he only loves one person. He only loves Seonghwa.

 

Debatable, now, with how things were, but he wouldn’t go around looking for someone new. There was only Seonghwa.

 

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know if he means that either. Maybe they should break up. For the better? The better for who, though, Seonghwa? But Seonghwa said it himself, he does not want that.

 

Maybe it was Hongjoong who lead them to this point. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know. Nothing comes to mind. There lots of gaps between his memory. He keeps drawing blanks. Does he really not care that much? Did he ever cared at all?

 

Silence.

 

Seonghwa doesn’t reply. He hums, index finger tapping the back of Hongjoong’s hand. The lights were still on. Hongjoong keeps waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.lazlowrites.tumblr.com) | [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/lazlozuli)


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